


Stay

by captainshellhead, vibraniumstark



Category: Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Blood of Tyrants Spoilers, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 17:21:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4754732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainshellhead/pseuds/captainshellhead, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vibraniumstark/pseuds/vibraniumstark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Tharkay were to ask him to stay, he would almost certainly go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short one. Also unbeta'd, so feel free to point out all the mistakes! Takes place during BoT

Tharkay has always been a light sleeper, a lifelong habit born from a necessity for vigilance. Sleep had only become more difficult after his capture on the way to Peking, and so when the slight movement of Laurence shifting onto his back snaps Tharkay to full wakefulness, he does not immediately move, lest Laurence feel guilty for waking him.

Tharkay rarely shares his bed with anyone, and actually enjoys sharing it even less often, but Laurence makes it easy, always warm and unsurprisingly considerate--though perhaps somewhat frustratingly so due to Tharkay’s injuries.

He has already caught Laurence watching him with poorly concealed anxiety more than once, watching for any wince, any hesitation, movement that telegraphed pain. It was different, but a welcome sort of hyper-vigilance, born from concern rather than suspicion.

Laurence shifts again, more slowly this time, and Tharkay realizes abruptly that he isn’t trying to get more comfortable, or tossing in his sleep; he is trying to slip ever so gently out from under the arm that Tharkay had thrown over his waist the night before. 

Tharkay slits an eye open to peer at him, but the darkness of the tent is too absolute for him to make out Laurence’s face. Part of the reason that they retired to Tharkay’s tent more often than Laurence’s was the relative privacy—the Chinese insisted on erecting Temeraire’s pavilion smack in the center of their forces every night, where Tharkay’s comings and goings would be painfully obvious. With Tharkay’s tent established much more out of the way, it was much simpler for Laurence to slip in and out unnoticed and unquestioned, especially at this hour.

They had been doing this for almost as long as Tharkay had been, mostly, recovered, and Laurence still hadn’t once stayed the entirety of the night.

“Will,” Tharkay says quietly, tightening his hold just a fraction. The muscles under his arm tense, but he doesn’t release his loose hold.

Tharkay isn’t naïve enough to believe that a couple of weeks and a confession, no matter how heartfelt, would be enough to rewrite a lifetime of conditioning, and even though _Tharkay_ felt that there was little reason to fear discovery, Laurence’s own sense of propriety left him feeling very differently.

If Tharkay were to ask him to stay, he would almost certainly go; if he pointed out how ridiculous their sneaking about even among friends was, he would still go, and he wouldn’t come back. Instead he releases his grip over Laurence’s waist, and reaches to grab the blanket Laurence had displaced.

“You’re letting in the cold,” Tharkay says, not even having to feign fatigue. Laurence pulls the blankets back into place with a quiet, murmured apology.

Laurence waits until Tharkay has feigned sleep before he collects his clothing and slips out into the night.

 

 

 

Tharkay is almost certain it is he who wakes Laurence up the next time; he’s had an abominable time getting the sleep, despite both their best efforts to wear him out to the point of exhaustion, and had only managed a fitful doze before rousing again as painfully awake as before.

A cold snap had settled over the camp, and although the interior of the tent was warm almost to the point of it being insufferable, Tharkay’s hands ache terribly every time he tries to lie still. He is certain that it was only in his mind, but that doesn’t stop the ache, nor the irresistible urge to shift positions, as though that would somehow help to ease the phantom pain.

He is lying with both hands curled into his chest, staring blankly at the ceiling of his tent, when he feels Laurence begin to shift beside him. He silently curses his restlessness, but the damage has already been done. Tharkay waits for him to push back the blankets and slide out of bed. Instead he reaches across the small space between them to feather a light touch over Tharkay’s hand with his own.

Tharkay has little trouble reading Laurence, but in this instance, he hopes that he is wrong, and that all Laurence intends to do is go back to sleep. Instead he pulls his hand back and, after a moment, Tharkay realizes that Laurence is trying to leave. 

He wants to let Will know he’s awake, to turn over and ask him to stay, but he knows that the suggestion will go over no better now than it had over lunch the day before, or last week, or the week before that. Laurence has made it abundantly clear that he isn’t comfortable with staying the night, and for as much as Tharkay enjoys antagonizing him, he doesn’t for a moment want to make Laurence uncomfortable.

He doesn’t say anything when Will slips out from under the covers, only listens as he pads back and forth gathering his clothes. Laurence pauses by the door for a long moment, and Tharkay has an image of Will trying to tie his neckcloth in the darkness before he pushes the tent flap aside. There is a moment, where Laurence stands in the open doorway but doesn’t move, that Tharkay thinks he is going to stay.

Instead, he squares his shoulders and, with his hat tucked under one arm, ducks out the door.

Tharkay has enough time to let out a sigh, to turn over on his side once again, before the tent flap is pulled aside again. Tharkay considers feigning sleep for scarcely a moment but then, he’s never been the type to avoid confrontation.

“Back so soon?” he says mildly, and he imagines that if there had been enough light he might have seen Laurence jump. When that doesn’t prompt him to move, he sighs and turns to peer at him through the dark. “In or out, Will. Only pick one.”

A moment more of silence, and then the sound of Will setting his hat on the desk. Two thumps follow, his boots hitting the ground, and then he stands a moment more in contemplation, before the rest of the kit follows, though with more care than they’d taken earlier that night, as he folds each piece and sets them onto the desk.

“I thought you were asleep,” Laurence admits quietly.

“I know,” Tharkay says, and pushes the blanket aside again, despite the cold, and waits for Will to climb back underneath.

“Did I wake you?” he asked, after a moment. 

“I, you, I think,” Tharkay says, turning over to face him and, at the risk of another attempt at flight, drops a hand onto Laurence’s chest. “This time, at least,” he adds, when Will moves to link their fingers together. 

At his embarrassed silence, Tharkay can’t help but laugh. 

“Is it that much worse, to be caught in the act? Surely you knew that I’d notice you were gone in the morning.”

“I--” Laurence falters for an explanation that doesn’t seem inadequate, but Tharkay isn’t feeling gracious enough to rescue him from the attempt. He gives up with a frustrated huff, and turns over more completely, so that they are nose to nose. Had there been enough light, Tharkay could have counted the lashes over his eyes. 

“Tenzing,” he tries again, changing tactics, “You should know that I feel quite strongly for you. And that--that I wouldn’t want you to think that my leaving at all reflects on my feelings, or--” 

He huffs again, and Tharkay grins at the attempt. 

“I am glad to hear it,” he says, unable to keep his amusement from his voice, and if he had at all entertained the thought, Laurence wasn’t going to know it. “Now I would be glad to get some sleep. Unless you intend to make another attempt at a quiet escape, in which case you may as well do it now and save me a night of fitful starts and stops.”

Tharkay keeps his tone light, but it is as clear an opportunity as any for Laurence to change his mind, under the pretense of saving Tharkay from his restlessness. Laurence is silent for a moment, then: “In the morning, I think,” he says, drawing him closer against the cold, and closes his eyes to sleep.


End file.
